


Glee Kink Meme fill

by Anonymous



Category: Glee
Genre: Comment Fic, Demonic Possession, Episode: s03e05 The First Time, Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 21:56:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14703159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Moving over old fic before LJ goes down in flames.Prompt: https://glee-kink-meme.livejournal.com/19682.html?thread=22234850tldr: demons exist, and S3E05 takes a dark turn.





	Glee Kink Meme fill

There were so many signs, in retrospect, but who the hell notices things like too many flies, or a funky smell, or flickering neon lights - especially when you were barely seventeen, and it was your first trip to a bar? For all Kurt knew, that was how a bar was supposed to smell; a mix of stale beer and cigarettes and something horrible at the back of the refrigerator.

They’d had such a wonderful night. By closing time, they were breathless with laughter, giddy with love; all thoughts of Karofsky and Sebastian banished. Kurt guided Blaine out the door and toward the car - that awful smell was even stronger out here, had there been a sewer break? – and dodged his sweet, slightly beery kisses with ease. He knew from Rachel’s party that Blaine was a cuddly, handsy drunk, and they’d talked about it when Kurt agreed to be designated driver tonight, so he wasn’t worried at all – until the moment that Blaine pulled him into the Nav, and everything changed. The lights flared and died, flared and died, and the radio turned on and began skipping from station to station; snippets of right wing talk radio and 70s rock and new pop with bursts of static. In the seconds it took Kurt put the pieces together, it was already far too late. 

“Kurt, c’mon, let’s just – let’s just do it. I want you.” The words terrified him. If this was his darling boyfriend, this could be dealt with. If it were a demon, well – if they were very lucky, they would still be alive at the end of the night.

“No, Blaine, stop. Stop it.” Kurt’s voice rose as he pulled away, struggling to get enough purchase to get out of the car, out of this vulnerable position, somehow horribly hoping that it was his boyfriend talking to him like this.

Blaine’s voice was suddenly deeper, colder. “I know, I know you wanted to do it in a field of lilacs with Sting playing, but who cares? Who cares what the fuck you want?” And he knew, Kurt knew that when he stopped fighting and looked, Blaine’s eyes would be black as the night sky.

“Would it be easier for you if we looked like this?” The face below him, his – it’s – hand tangled tightly in Kurt’s hair, morphed from Blaine’s to Taylor Lautner’s. “Would you rather suck this cock? Or maybe this one,” it growled, as the face shifted again, this time to Finn’s. “You were hoping for candlelight, weren’t you?” Flames sprang up in a circle around the car; everything Kurt had been taught about demons meant he knew they were illusory, but they still felt hot, and added to his terror. The demon took advantage of the distraction to flip Kurt under it in the back seat, and when Kurt was aware again, Finn-Blaine-it was pushing a hard penis toward his mouth. Kurt tightened his lips, but it reached down with one hand and pinched his nose shut. “You’ll have to breathe eventually, idiot. Even if you pass out, you’ll open your mouth. Come on, suck it. You wanted this, right? This beautiful boy, and this one, and this one?” The voice never changed, hard and angry, but the face changed rapid-fire, every man Kurt knew, Blaine-Puck-Blaine-Sebastian-Blaine-oh god dad-Blaine-Mr. Schue. Kurt began to close his eyes, and the demon let go of his nose and slapped him, hard. “You. Will. Keep. Your. Eyes. Open.” The effect was instant; Kurt tried to blink and was completely unable. “Open your mouth,” it said, the same commanding voice in place. “You may continue to fight us, if you like.” And so Kurt did fight, hips bucking, fists hitting and nails clawing, but his mouth and eyes remained open, even as he cried and choked, and the demon never stopped talking.

When it was finished, it bent it’s face – Blaine’s face, again – to Kurt’s, and kissed him. “Do you know what makes a wonderful lubricant?” it laughed. “Snot, and tears, and come, and blood.” It bit Kurt’s lip, hard, and he tasted the metallic tang while it’s hands worked on removing his jeans. Kurt increased his struggles, landing blows that he knew had to hurt, would hurt Blaine, if they survived, until it spoke again – “Stop fighting.” – and he stilled instantly, limbs loose. The demon shoved it’s fingers into Kurt’s mouth, wiped the wetness onto it’s still hard cock, and, as it entered Kurt slowly, it whispered to him, “Blaine’s in here too, you know. He can feel every thrust. We think he likes it.” The face above him continued to change; Mike Chang, Wes, his dad again, but the voice never did. It placed one hand on Kurt’s throat and pressed. “We think you like it. Struggle, that was amusing.” Kurt’s body was his own again, but now he could feel every jerk of the demon’s hips, and the pain and lack of breath kept him from being able to do much more than try to writhe away. “That won’t do. Really try,” it said, in what was almost-but-not-quite Blaine’s laugh. “Try to get away from us. But oh, you won’t, because you want this.” 

“No,” he managed to wheeze out. “No no no.” I do not want this, but he could only form the words; there was no air left. As he began to lose consciousness, he felt the demon release inside him, body shuddering and hot – and then the pressure on his neck eased, and as Kurt’s eyes closed, Blaine’s drained of inky black. 

Blaine came back to himself with a shudder; that had been a particularly vivid and horrible nightmare. He was never drinking again, ever. Except – he was still in the Nav, and that was Kurt half-naked under him. Was he breathing? What had happened? 

Blaine pulled himself away from Kurt’s body out of, out of, oh my god and patted his face desperately. “Kurt? Kurt, baby, Kurt, please, please wake up, please don’t be dead. Oh, my god, what did I do? Kurt, please, I need you to wake up.” Blaine felt the tiniest glimmer of hope as Kurt stirred, then jumped as Kurt came fully awake, screaming, and flailing to damage every part of Blaine he could reach. His eyes were squeezed closed.

“Get off get off get off-“ Kurt’s voice was hoarse and broken, but loud enough, and every hit connected. Blaine grabbed at his wrists, trying to calm him, but it made things so much worse. 

“Kurt, baby, please don’t, please don’t, I’m not going to hurt you, you’re safe. You’re safe,” he begged, letting go quickly. As he spoke, Kurt quieted and stilled, but kept his eyes closed tight.

“B-blaine? Is that really you? Talk to me, please,” he sobbed. He jerked away, scrambling upright until his back hit the door, when Blaine touched his face. He kept his eyes hidden. “Don’t touch me! Just, just talk to me.”

“What – I don’t even,” Blaine began, then choked back a cry of his own. “What happened?”

Slowly, Kurt opened his eyes. Blaine, his Blaine, was sitting back on his knees, tears beginning to fall. His eyes were hazel, not black. “You – “ he coughed, then began again, “you were possessed. It must have been an incubus, because we’re both still alive. That’s good, right?” Back against the door and knees drawn to his chest, Kurt began to cry harder. “I have to believe it’s a good thing, I have to.” 

“We have to take you to the hospital, that’s what they say to do, to get checked out.” Blaine reached out, and winced when Kurt flinched away from him. “You need to be sure that I - it - didn’t, I don’t know, tear you or something.” 

“They say that for girls, Blaine, to make sure they haven’t been impregnated. I just want to go-“ But as he said it, Kurt realized he couldn’t go home; that although all he wanted in the world was to shower for a hundred years and then climb into the most comfortable clothing he owned and lie under his blankets until he died, that would expose him, them, this to his dad. He pulled himself together, wiping the tears off his face with both hands. "No. Give me my clothes, and take me someplace safe. Your house, your dorm, a motel, I don't care. Just, not home."


End file.
